


Idle Hands

by potentiality_26



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: Now Norrell was gone, and missed largely in the little moments when Childermass heard this or that piece of news and thought how he would tell it to Norrell, and how he would react- and then he remembered that Norrell was not there to tell, and he liked to be busy more than ever.Mostly, he was- for there was a great deal to do.  There were old politicians and new magicians to deal with; there was Vinculus to manage; there was a different kind of magic and a different kind of life for his people to carve out, and Childermass was busily carving it.  There was little time to regret words spoken in haste, or to miss the society of men he still regarded very highly, however things had fallen out- or to be lonesome in general.  But sometimes... sometimes he stopped, and he stopped most often at Starecross.  And it was strange, but in that place- where he had the least reason to be lonely- he was most intensely so.Childermass' plan to keep himself occupied at Starecross may not be quite perfect.





	Idle Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Fills my 100fandoms table prompt #18 (fix).

John Childermass had never liked to be idle.  He was fortunate, therefore, to have found himself employment for most of his life where idleness was never a problem.  So even when Mr. Norrell gave him work he did not entirely approve of- either because the means to a necessary end were foul, or because the end was foul even if the means were technically above reproach- Childermass went to sleep and slept easily, for whatever the business he had at least been busy all day.

Now Norrell was gone, and missed largely in the little moments when Childermass heard this or that piece of news and thought how he would tell it to Norrell, and how he would react- and then he remembered that Norrell was not there to tell, and he liked to be busy more than ever.

Mostly, he was- for there was a great deal to do.  There were old politicians and new magicians to deal with; there was Vinculus to manage; there was a different kind of magic and a different kind of life for his people to carve out, and Childermass was busily carving it.  There was little time to regret words spoken in haste, or to miss the society of men he still regarded very highly, however things had fallen out- or to be lonesome in general.  But sometimes... sometimes he stopped, and he stopped most often at Starecross.  And it was strange, but in that place- where he had the least reason to be lonely- he was most intensely so.

Perhaps it was because there was relatively little for him to do.  Oh, he could talk with Segundus about magic, and he could bring news from the outside world to the peaceful little corner of hope and learning Segundus had managed to create, but he was not _busy_.  It made him restless, gave him leisure to think on things he preferred unthought of- Segundus himself chief among them.  Childermass had come to look on him as a friend long before he had done much to earn Segundus’ friendship in turn, but that was one thing.  It was another altogether to entertain more... tender feelings.      

And of late he did entertain them- during long nights bent over notes together, and on early mornings when Childermass had barely started his breakfast before Segundus revisited some old argument from the evening before.  He entertained them as he curled in on himself in his cold bed at Starecross- and, more and more often, in even colder beds at roadside inns as well- and he wondered if Segundus could make him feel not so alone in that part of his life, if he could possibly wish to. 

“Are you well, Mr. Childermass?” Segundus asked one evening as they sat and talked as usual, and Childermass shook his head as usual- as if it might shake loose the brightness of Segundus’ eyes when he spoke of magic.  “Are you certain?  You seem... distracted.”

“I am only tired from my journey,” Childermass replied.  “I should go to bed early tonight.”

Segundus looked doubtful, but he did not argue, and Childermass took a book with him to his room, though in truth he did not plan to go to bed at all.  Distracted, Segundus had said he seemed- and it had certainly begun that way.  As a distraction.  A way to occupy his mind while at Starecross, and nothing more.  At least, that was what he told himself.

Around the back of Starecross, there was an old well. Technically, there were two- one some distance from the main building which Segundus and Mr. Honeyfoot had dug when they first set up the school, and another right in the back garden.  It was carved with the image of the Raven King and, besides being much more convenient for drawing water, would be an excellent source of magic- or so Segundus believed, since the mechanism of the well itself was magic.  Thus far Segundus had not been able to persuade it to work.

Both in the days when the well was dug by Maria Absalom or one of her followers, and in Childermass' present age- with so few books to read and so much raw power drifting around- finding the proper spell was really just a question of time.  So, whenever Childermass had a free moment, he spent it hunched over his notebook calculating components until he was convinced he had solved it.

And there he came to the most difficult part.  Normally when he thought of a spell, one either half remembered from Norrell’s library or of his own devising, Childermass would explain it to Segundus so that they might try it out together.  Not only was this the safest way to attempt new magic, it was also the most enjoyable.  Only-

Only Mr. Segundus had a way of looking at him, during those times, which Childermass now considered to be the wrong sort of distraction.

So that night, having planned his arrival to coincide with the requisite full moon, Childermass did the magic alone.

The change, the following morning, was unmistakable.  The vines which long choked the well had crept back, the stonework was polished, and the pulley turned at a muttered word as if it had been in regular use all these years. Segundus, when he stepped out at dawn and saw it, was initially at a loss for words.  “Who- how-” he began, and then seemed to decide such questions were superfluous.  He dashed over to the well and began to explore it, murmuring under his breath about old enchantments which might now be possible. 

“Miraculous,” said Mr. Honeyfoot, with an expression of awe.

"Indeed," said Vinculus, with a terribly knowing look.

Happily he said nothing further, and Childermass took him off again later that day, while Segundus was still occupied with his new well.  Segundus himself was, of course, all apologies for his neglect the next time Childermass came back, but Childermass promised he did not mind.  How could he?  He was planning what to do next.   

Starecross, while a warm and cheerful place under Segundus' charge, had its share of... little problems which, with so much else to do, were tolerated and not resolved.  Segundus and Honeyfoot found ways to work around them all, and Childermass and Vinculus and everyone else followed suit without complaint- which did not mean it would not be better, if they _were_ resolved.  And Childermass intended to do so. 

Over the course of his next three visits to Starecross, Childermass made a start.  He repaired a door with bad hinges, which when opened and closed screeched like the tormented souls of the damned despite all manner of oil and polish.  He stilled a carpet made mobile by a student's spell, one that sent it careening through the hall every Saturday at eleven.  He patched the little hole in the floorboards of the cook's room, that whispered in the night and told her stories of ancient kings.  By then, he was confident that, if nothing else, he learned enough household magic to rival any menial of the golden age, and would be successful should he have to seek a situation on those merits.  Though much of London society had decided again that magic never was and never would be respectable, Wellington was likely to be Prime Minister.  He would have magicians in every battle, if at all possible.  And where Wellington had magicians, there would be reports of their great feats in the newspapers again, and everyone would be in such a clamor for a magical domestic servant that even his general lack of charm would not prevent him from being well received.  But-

But Childermass was presently well enough funded to continue as he was for some time yet.  In fact, if he was frugal- which he was by nature- he fancied he would want to stop traveling so long before he _had_ to stop traveling so.  And in that case he hoped- likely a vain hope and certainly an unspoken one, but keen nevertheless- that by that time he would have a place at Starecross and would need no other.  

Childermass was aware that there were things he might do in the present which would better ensure that future- including being a little plainer about the work he was presently engaged in.  But there was always the possibility that in being plainer about that he might, perhaps unwittingly, also be plainer about his... affections.  And that- well.  That would either guarantee this future home at Starecross, or it would exclude him from it for good.  And though Childermass was comfortably sure of the general shape the future would take- at least with regards to magic in England- he was not so sure of John Segundus.  As long as that was true, he would step carefully, and remember that his true purpose was simple: to keep himself busy and make himself useful.  Nothing more. 

On his fourth visit, circumstances at last conspired against him.  He had been up half the night in the garden, coaxing one stubbornly barren patch of ground to life, and had gotten only a little sleep.  He had been yawning and rubbing his eyes through breakfast more often than not, of late, whenever he was at Starecross- and that, of course, was the only time Segundus saw him.  And as he did so that particular morning between helpings of toast and jam, Childermass began to worry that Segundus would question his abilities as a host.

But that was not what Segundus, seated across from him at the table and eying him carefully, said when he spoke:

"I appreciated the patch in the cook's floor especially," he said.  "I was afraid she would leave.  I appreciated it all, really- and I know you would have preferred not to speak of it, but I am tired of feeling so unable to thank you.  So- thank you.”

Childermass considered his reply for a while, and- when he failed to think of anything clever- finally said, “You’re sure it was me, then?”

“If you had intended it to be secret, you did little to guarantee it,” Segundus replied.  “Which is not like you.”

“Oh?” 

“There are, you understand, only so many people it could have been.  Between the students and the servants, there are only perhaps a dozen people regularly in the Hall, and even all banded together they could not act with the precision that you did.  And among them there are only four true magicians- and Mr. Honeyfoot, as you know, prefers even now to work theoretically.  I considered briefly that I might have taken to doing household chores in my sleep- which would have been clever of me, but also unlikely.  Which left you and Vinculus- but it was not Vinculus’ style, and at any rate he was not always there when the things were done.  Only you were always there.  And of course I thought it was you from the start; I had only resolved to consider all other options before I put it to you- and there.  Now I have.”

“Now you have,” Childermass repeated.  There did not seem to be anything further to say.  All the worries he had entertained on the subject, large and small, roiled briefly within him and then melted away.  The morning sunshine on the table- which he had been thinking recently had one leg which was a little too short, and which would be easy enough to make properly stable- was so peaceful, and the breakfast was so pleasant, that it was suddenly difficult to worry about anything. 

Segundus’ faint smile only deepened this sensation of ease.  He looked shy and hopeful in a way that made Childermass feel shyly hopeful in turn.  “I shouldn’t like to make any... presumptions,” Segundus said after a while.  “But it seems to me that, at worst, you were doing all this because you had come to see Starecross as a kind of home and wished- as anyone would, with a home- to improve it.”

“At worst?”

Segundus reddened slightly.  “I have long hoped you saw Starecross that way.”

“Then why at worst?”

“Well.  A man might be forgiven for thinking- or perhaps hoping- that you had done all- or even some- of what you did for-” Segundus hesitated one last time- "well.  For him.”

“I did.”  Childermass found that, as the moment arrived, _he_ did not hesitate.  “I did do it for you.”  He swallowed, and sipped his tea to better recover his equilibrium.  “I did it to keep myself busy, or so I told myself, but of course I did it for you.”

Segundus smiled. 

“And I have for some time now considered this place home.”

Segundus’ smile only broadened, and Childermass felt that all his labors, large and small, had been worth every minute- and in more ways that one.  “I am glad you think so well of me,” Segundus said.

“I have not yet begun,” Childermass replied slowly, “to show you how well I think of you.”

“No,” Segundus said, just as slowly, “ _I_ have not yet begun.  You, on the other hand, have made an excellent start indeed.”

He sounded faintly ruminative, and though Childermass did feel a little lightheaded when he thought of how Segundus might show his regard in turn, he still said: “Do you imagine it to be a competition?”  If so, Segundus was not so far behind as he evidently supposed, for he had shown Childermass his regard in all the times he had welcomed him back when a lesser man would not have been so forgiving. 

"No, I imagine it is much more than that."  Segundus glanced around as if one of his servants- who normally gave them a wide berth for fear, Childermass suspected, of running afoul of them in the midst of some magical argument- might suddenly appear.  When one did not, he leaned closer to Childermass, close enough that Childermass could see the faint flush on his cheeks and the gleam in his eyes in exceptional detail.  “But you like competition, I believe.”    

“You are right,” Childermass admitted, and kissed him.

“That is not fair,” Segundus declared, breathlessly, when he was through.  “You already have a terrible advantage, you know.”

"And I intend to use it shamelessly,” Childermass said, and kissed him again.  

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [dreamwidth](https://potentiality-26.dreamwidth.org).


End file.
